Their Little Secrets
by CSIBritfan
Summary: Happy Birthday Grissom! Thank you if you've reviewed...if you haven't, why not! I'm new to this! I need help! So put the kettle on, put your feet up and enjoy! I hope. Please review. Love to hear from you! GSR!


**_Disclaimer – If you've heard of them, I don't own them – characters, places, activities, quotes! Oh, but if I did. I'd have paid someone to write this for a start! Any spelling or grammatical errors are all mine and I won't share them if CBS won't share Grissom with me._**

_**A/N – this was inspired by the thought of Grissom's birthday coming up soon. How would he celebrate? Would he have a choice! This is my very first attempt at anything like this. Please make me feel like a writer, and write a review. Let me know how I did so I can do better next time. Cheers, CSI Britfan. xx**_

**Their Little Secrets**

Sara Sidle ripped off the bottom page of the calendar. She gave herself a knowing smile. The 16th was replaced by the 17th August 2006. No big red pen marks circled the date. No reminders were needed. She had been planning and plotting for weeks. A certain person was 50 and it was the first big milestone in their now-together life. No big parties, no fuss, no trouble, no mention of it to their work colleagues. Well, that was a wish she intended to keep for him. She had plans. Whether by luck or design, both she and her boss were off for the night. Thirty six hours lay ahead of them. She moved round the kitchen and put the kettle on. Her field kit was pushed under the breakfast bar with her left foot. She wouldn't need that for a day or two. Thank God Gil was finishing paper work. She'd tried to coax him out of his office but he told her that it would look suspicious if he wasn't there at the end of shift. He was determined to keep this birthday thing quiet. It gave her plenty of time to finish off her master plan. She brewed up her tea and went off to the bedroom to prepare…

She was casually sprawled on the settee when she heard the oh, so lovely sound of Gil Grissom entering her apartment. The key had been her Christmas present to him. They'd talked about sharing living arrangements, but they'd waited over six years and they didn't want to rush things. Typically cautious, but somehow cute at the same time. They both needed time to share and care for each other, but they also needed their own spaces…to be by themselves, as and when it was needed…and Sara wasn't too keen to have cockroaches as lodgers in her spare room. She heard him kick his boots off and scratch his hand across his beard. She bet he was looking at himself in the mirror in the hall way. He wasn't a vain man, but had pride in his appearance. He wouldn't want Sara to see him if he looked unkempt. Another attractive trait of Gil Grissom.

The hallway entrance was suddenly full of him. He was an imposing man. Tall, sturdy, bearded and bespectacled. His court suit added that extra deliciousness to him. Sara gave herself a crafty smile behind the forensics magazine she was glancing through. Drop dead gorgeous in the suit, even better when wearing his… He was hers, all hers and she would never give him up.

He moved over to her and gently dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

'Hello there,' he said as he walked past her and went to the fridge. The Las Vegas heat was rising and he needed a cold glass of water.

'Hi, yourself,' she replied, adding, 'Oh, and Happy Birthday.'

Gil looked over the rims of his glasses. It was the school teacher telling off a naughty pupil look. Measured and practiced. Never failed. Sara smiled up at him. It never worked on her.

'Sara, I told you, it's just another ordinary day as far as I'm concerned.'

'So you don't have any plans then? No cards with the boys? No cake? Candles? Presents?'

'Well, I'm not against presents per se, as long as they are for me … and insect related … or expensive…' He tailed off into that cheeky little smirk. Sara was convinced he would have got away with murder as a little boy with that smirk.

'Presents are best kept private.'

'I think you mean fantasies are best kept private.' He didn't want to correct her, but a quote is a quote after all. 'Oh no Sara, you've not got me an ear shredding rock, a beautiful model, boatloads of sushi and latex have you!'

Sara looked dumbfounded at him.

'As if! What's good for Greg is bad for Grissom.' She broke into a big grin.

Grissom visually breathed a sigh of relief. His knees restored him to his full height as he pushed himself away from the worktop.

'But it's funny you should mention fantasies…'

Grissom looked wide eyed at her from behind the fridge door. 'I'm sorry, did I hear that correctly?'

She flashed the grin again.

'I think I know what your fantasies are, Grissom.'

'Well, you are in most of them…' he blushed.

'Down boy! Not like that! We're not on shift for another 36 hours. It's your birthday, or what's left of it, for most of them. Do you trust me enough to fulfil some, if not all, of your fantasies?'

He was flabbergastered. Just being there was fantasy enough. Waking beside her, working beside her, sharing with her, looking at her. What else could he possibly desire? He pushed up the sleeves of his suit shirt and thrust his hands into the tailored navy trouser pockets. He lifted his deep blue eyes in her direction.

'Ok, then… but I warn you, my fantasies are very… demanding.' He grinned. Birthdays with Sara Sidle were going to be stunning – and he suddenly couldn't wait to have more.

………………………………

They needed to sleep after shift. Neither slept the required eight hours. She was surprisingly nervous. He was surprisingly excited.

After a shower and change, Grissom was ready for the birthday of all birthdays. He was glad Sara had told him informal dress was ok, so he strolled out of the bedroom door in pales jeans and was blue shirted with his damp curls trailing just above the collar. He slumped on to the settee by Sara's side and waited expectantly.

'What?'

'Isn't it present time?'

'It's not in a box with a pretty ribbon, Griss…' Sara teased. 'Part of it is in the bag by the door, some is in the boot of my car and some is at UNLV. So if you're waiting for something to open, you're in for a pretty long wait.'

'Oh. So…er… when do we start?'

'Whenever you're ready. Are you ready, Grissom? You know, for someone who didn't give a damn about birthdays, you've perked up somewhat. Since when have you been interested in them?'

Grissom turned and grinned at her,

'Since I met you.'

'You have got to stop using that line! First time was effective, second time was cute. A third time…? You need a new chat up line!'

He lowered his eyes onto her leg and let out a small snort of amusement. He looked at her from under his eye lashes.

'Can we go now? Can we go now? Can we go now?' he mock whined, as he leant his head on her shoulder, looking into her eyes all the time.

'I'm sorry… I thought Greg had just walked into the room…' Sara looked towards the door. 'Oops, no, it was Gil Grissom, Man Child. Come on then, before you drive me insane and I change my mind about this.'

They both eased up onto their feet. Grissom picked up his keys and wallet from the telephone stand in the hallway. Sara picked up the sports bag and swung it over her shoulder. She hoped she'd got this right. When he wasn't bothered about celebrating she was quietly confident that she could win him round and have a good time on the day. Now he was curiously excited and looking forward to her fantasy list. The one she'd drawn up for him. What if she'd misjudged him and got it totally wrong? She convinced herself she had no need to panic. Especially when he turned round to her and whispered,

'I'm glad to be spending my birthday with you. Whatever we end up doing.'

She smiled gently at him and ushered him out of her apartment. 'Come on, birthday boy. A whole world awaits you!'

She'd never be able to tell him how she'd done it. She'd agonised over what to give him. She'd bought an ant farm. She'd dropped it on the way out of the shop and broke it. She'd bought him a new court suit. He'd turned up with a new one he'd bought which looked better on him. She'd returned hers to the shop. She'd decided on something personal. She'd come up with things he wanted to do. It had been her little secret.

…………………….

2.

The Strip was murder. It always was this time of day. The Deuce Bus was crawling up the slow lane, with tourists and locals alike spewing from the doors into the casinos. Volcanoes erupted, gondoliers serenaded, Sirens fought Pirates and fountains danced. Each attraction was a crime scene of its very own with hoards of people watching each, crowding out pavements and forcing passing pedestrians onto the street to pass. Couples wandered arm in arm to wedding chapels, audiences were settling in to shows. This was Sara Sidle's least favourite time to be driving on The Strip. The air conditioning was working overtime to keep her chilled – in every way possible. She had a time deadline against her. UNLV was her destination with the precious cargo… and Gil Grissom, who was sitting by her side, blissfully unaware.

'Finally…' she uttered under her breath, as she pulled into the university car park.

'What are we doing here? Is it a lecture?' enquired a puzzled Grissom. He'd been here several times before. This wasn't a fantasy of his.

'God, I hope not,' responded Sara as she pulled up the hand brake in her chosen parking space. 'I hope it's something slightly more enjoyable than that.'

'Sara, lectures are very enjoyable… and educational. They float my boat.'

Float my boat? Where did he get these bizarre phrases from? He was an academic for goodness sake.

'Nice choice of vocabulary, Doctor. Greg?'

'No.'

'Oh,' she blinked, surprised.

'Catherine.'

'Obviously.'

They got out and Sara released the car boot catch. Grissom watched her intently as she went the back of her car. She lifted the boot and pulled out a large cardboard box, which clanked with glass inside. For such a big box, it clearly wasn't heavy as Sara easily lifted and carried it towards the University building. They got in the lift and went to the entomology department.

'Sara, I don't wish to sound ungrateful, but I come here regularly. This is would never be on my fantasy list.'

'Just stop complaining and wait. You'll see.'

The lift stopped and they walked through the double doors on their left. Grissom could do the walk in his sleep.

'Right, we have this place for an hour or two. With your luck last time, that maybe an hour or two too long.'

'Okaaaaay…' responded Grissom. What luck last time?

He held the final door open for her and looked into the room. There was a race track laid out. Traps were at one end with a finishing line at the other. Several lecturers and students were milling around. When Grissom entered, a polite round of applause broke out from them.

'Cockroach racing, Sara? How did you…?'

'When you finished your paperwork this morning,' Sara grinned, as she unpacked

Termite-ator, Slugsy Malone and Cocky Balboa, from cardboard box she'd carried from

the car.

'I nipped through to your apartment and picked these up. Lucky you gave me your

apartment key, don't you think?'

'I knew there was a reason I loved you,' he grinned.

'I know a fantasy of yours is to win a competition so I phoned the department here to see

what they could do. Did I do good?' She already new the answer.

'More than good!' He kissed her cheek.

'Well off you go then. Play nicely.'

And with that he'd gone. She watched him, enraptured. He was like a boy with a new

toy. His face lit up as he talked to staff and students alike about the racing schedule.

She watched him cheer madly for his roaches. She watched the excitement mount as

each cockroach progressed through the rounds of the competition. She even grimaced as

Cocky Balboa failed to leave the traps at the start of the semi final. She saw Grissom

beckon her over for the final.

She meandered up to him and linked her arm through his. She couldn't believe she

actually cared about insects slow timing down a makeshift track. They were smelly,

nasty bugs to her, but to him they were a gorgeous phenomenon of nature. Therefore,

now, they were important.

The last race was touch and go. One roach overtook another. They stopped for a power

nap mid race. The crowd cheered, the professors sweated profusely – pride was at stake

here. Grissom concentrated. He stared. He grimaced. He cajoled. Sara smiled.

'Come on. Little fella. That's right. That's it. You can take him, Termi, he's all yours…

that's it… go on… go on… GO ON TERMITE-ATOR!'

Grissom launched himself in the air through delight. He was bouncing up and down and

swinging Sara round and bouncing up and down and yelling and swinging Sara round.

Students gathered to congratulate the forensics genius that delighted them in lectures with

tales of graphic injury and death. Academic pillars of society congratulated him with

stout handshakes and choruses of well done, old boy.

'I won, Sara, I won! I can't believe it! I've raced before, but never actually crossed the

line first!'

There was no doubt, Gil Grissom was a happy man. He carried a silver trophy in one

hand and Termite-ator in the other. He kissed the glass jar and talked at the disinterested

insect.

'Who's a clever boy then? Eh? You are! Yes, you are! Extra fillet steak for you

tonight, my little lovely!'

'You are such a smooth talker, Gil.' Sara commented as she carried the jars in the box

back to the car. 'I take it that is one fantasy completed? To enter and win a cockroach

racing competition?'

'Sara, you have no idea…'

'Oh. I think I do. Who's a clever girl then?' she smirked.

'That will be you.'

'Thank you.'

He gently kissed her cheek.

She'd never be able to tell him how she'd done it. She'd bought the trophy from a local

sports shop and asked the University staff to race ringers, destined to lose. It would

always be their little secret.

………………………

3.

'All that excitement has made me hungry, Sara.'

'Has it now?' Sara responded, as she made her way back to Las Vegas Boulevard. Hopefully, the traffic madness would be lessened by now. The second part of her master plan was on The Strip.

'I think we should do the second fantasy before we eat, though.'

'Oh, OK.

'But if you prefer…'

'No Sara. You are the boss tonight. I am totally in your hands.'

Sara sniggered.

'Well, maybe later, if you're lucky.'

'Sara Sidle!'

She traced her fingers over the top of his leg. Smutty was good with Grissom. She wasn't aware real innuendo was in him until she worked the rapper gang case with him and he declared he was good at mouth to mouth. The previous years of flirtatious behaviour were just that – flirty. There was no intention to go through with it, especially from his point of view. Just sparring around each other. See who would make the first move. It had taken a nightmare and the kidnapping of a colleague for this to become serious. Now she loved how the hidden meanings of their comments in the lab led to untold pleasures after shift. And yes, he was spectacular at mouth to mouth.

She moved her hand back to the steering wheel, acutely aware of a burning, almost lecherous, look from her passenger.

'Back to fantasy lists…'

'I'm having one right now,' Grissom replied in a meaningfully hushed tone, 'and you're in it.'

'I'm in your next one on my birthday fantasy list too,' she threw in casually, 'if you're interested.'

'Oh, I am. Very.'

'Then save your energy, Romeo.' She chided.

'For never was there a story of more woe…' He tailed off and averted his glances. The sensual tension in the car subsided. Sara knew that it wouldn't last long. And she was delighted about it.

New York New York stuttered past, as did the Aladdin, Paris, Bellagio and Caesar's Palace. They were heading past Circus Circus towards the Stratosphere when Grissom spoke.

'You know, Jules Verne sent Willie Fogg around the world in eighty days. Had he come to Vegas, he could have done it in eighty minutes.'

'If the traffic was light,' she retorted.

'Are we nearly there yet?' He knew exactly how to push her buttons.

She chose to ignore him. How could four or five lanes of traffic either way get so congested? She could see her destination, but highway rules forbade her from dumping her car and walking. She had to use the underground car parks beneath the buildings. After what seemed like an unutterable age of frustration, Sara indicated right into the Sahara car park. This was a spacious over land car park. Roomy. She drove round the back and as far down the side as she could. Grissom's interest was peaked.

'The Sahara?'

'Nope, this is just the nearest place to park. We need a little walk now.'

Sara locked and alarmed the car. Being a crime scene investigator, she'd seen lapses in personal property security just because there were cameras combing the area. That wouldn't stop a car thief if they really wanted the vehicle.

They silently interlocked fingers. It was a move they did often and were comfortable with. They made their way towards the Stratosphere. But that wasn't their final destination.

'I'm intrigued. Why are we here?'

'Well,' Sara replied, 'I know you have a fantasy that I've not wanted to do with you. But, as it's your birthday, your fiftieth birthday, special, I decided now was the time to go through with it. So, follow the evidence. My mentor once said, "there is always a clue." Now though, the holy trinity is slightly different.'

'Oh? How?' enquired Grissom.

'Birthday boy. Girlfriend. Location. Take a look around. Talk out what you see.'

Sara's grin was enormous. Teasing Gil Grissom was delicious.

'OK,' he conceded. 'Walking round the back of the Sahara towards The Strip… scene of many crimes…'

They cornered. Grissom looked up.

'NASCAR roller coaster ride…'

It dawned on him.

'Ah, let there be light…' he declared. 'I do believe that is our destination.'

'Very good. I see you haven't lost your touch.'

'Sara, are you sure about this? You aren't comfortable on roller coasters.'

'I'm absolutely sure. You trust me, I trust you, right?'

He locked her in a warm hug.

'Right. And I promise to hold your hand the whole way round.'

'I was counting on that.'

Sara took a deep breath. Her heart was hammering like a pneumatic drill. God, she hated these things, especially after the Pharaoh's Fever derailed a couple of years previously. She searched around in her jeans pocket. She pulled two tickets out.

'My, you are prepared.' Grissom grinned.

'Come on, before I chicken out.'

She pulled him through the arcade to join the queue, which, for him, was thankfully brief. It was hideously too short for Sara. She was wondering if anyone had ever actually vomited on the ride when the carriage rolled up.

'Can we go at the front?' questioned Grissom. He was clearly concerned about Sara's comfort. 'We don't have to if you wouldn't like to.'

'If it floats your boat…'

'Oh, it does…' His grin could have lit up The Strip.

Sara was genuinely concerned about his enthusiasm. It was just wrong in a man of his age. Obviously maturity was going to bypass Gil Grissom's middle years. And she thanked her lucky stars for it. A man so dedicated and perfection orientated in that lab needed slightly weird hobbies to balance his personality. Unfortunately insects and roller coasters were it. But she wasn't going to complain…now…it could keep …until tomorrow.

Sara climbed in first. She rattled the safety barrier before lowering it onto her lap.

'Don't worry, it's safe. They wouldn't let you ride if it wasn't.' he reassured her as he climbed into the vacant seat at her side. 'I'll even check the barrier is locked before we go. We really don't have to do this if you don't want to.'

Sara looked apologetically at him.

'I'm sorry. Out of my comfort zone I guess. I'm OK. It's only one minute out of our lifetime together. I can cope.'

Grissom looked at her in wonderment.

'Just one minute…in our lifetime together. Yes. Thank you.' He kissed her hand. He didn't let go.

He lowered his own barrier. He tried to lift it. It didn't budge. He pulled at Sara's bar. Solid. Sara gave an audible sigh of relief. The mechanism ground into life and slowly, they pulled out from the start gate and engaged in the pull up belt, which would shortly drop them off the edge of the world. Sara's hand tightened in Grissom's.

'I won't let you fall. I promise.'

The look she gave him warmed his soul, his heart, his future. He smiled at her.

'Ready?

'No.'

'Hold tight. Here we goooooooooooooooooooo……………….. ha ha haaaaaaaaaaaaaa!'

He yelled and whooped in delight. He lifted his free hand out of the carriage to wave in the air with all the teenagers. He held Sara's hand. He didn't let go. He'd promised. He groaned as they dropped 180 degrees and screamed as they twisted round the follow through. Sara turned towards him.

'Gil…'

'Yeah, Sara…' he turned to face her.

She kissed him softly, deftly, briefly. A white flash fired off. Was he seeing stars?

The ride ground its way back to the departure gate. They were still looking at each other when it braked to a final stop. The safety barriers clicked their release. Grissom lifted his restraint and stepped onto the platform. Sara followed. She was holding his hand so hard, she was convinced they'd need surgery to separate. He helped her out and pulled her into his embrace. The world around them zoned out. It was just them. She pressed her head into his comfortable shoulder and held on. It was not only the moment that was making her head spin and her knees go weak.

'Come on, there's more,' she told him, as they let go. 'We need to go back into the arcade.'

'What more could I possibly need?' he responded, with a distant look in his eyes. He was lost in her and he knew it.

She pulled him through the exit and towards the booth she'd spotted on the way up. She looked at the shots on the monitors. Screen 207 looked the one. Grissom was looking at the arcade games. Surely he didn't want to play them? She wouldn't put it past him. She handed over ten dollars and took the envelope from the assistant in the booth. She collected Grissom and they headed back to the car park.

After buckling themselves in to their car, Grissom turned to her.

'Thank you Sara. For doing that. I have to admit, riding a roller coaster with you had been a dream of mine, but I knew you didn't like them so never asked to do it. That took a lot of love in you - for me - to do that. And I'm grateful. Another tick on the completed fantasy list.'

'You don't have to be grateful. I knew I was safe with you. I trust you. Possibly, well, you know…' Sara's gaze was historical and wistful. Grissom understood. A calm and peaceful silence encircled them. Sara remembered the envelope in her hand.

'One more thing. Here you go.' She handed it over to him.

Eagerly, he opened the envelope. He slipped out a Nascar folder and opened it up. He smiled. A serene smile of a man in touch with his emotions… especially those regarding Sara Sidle. He studied it in detail. There he was. There she was. There they were. Lips barely touching, eyes lost in each others souls. The date time stamped in the bottom corner of the digital photograph from the roller coaster. A reminder for the rest of their lives together. 17th August 2006. Grissom and Sidle. Together. Physically. Mentally. Spiritually. Emotionally.

As he gazed, Sara reclined against the headrest. She would never be able to tell him how she'd done it. She'd been to the psychologist on her day off to talk through her roller coaster fears. She was talking for a long time. He'd given her breathing control and relaxation tips which she had to try out when she was alone. She'd done her research. She'd been to the arcade twice to look at the ride. Walked round it. Familiarised herself with it. Visualised being on it. Nearly given up on it. That would always be her little secret.

…………………..

4.

'You know, when I said dress was informal, I only meant for part of the time.'

Sara threw the comment out as she rounded the entrance to the Bellagio hotel and casino.

'Well, it's no good saying that now, Sara. I simply have nothing to wear. And don't even get me started on the shoes.'

'Cute, Grissom, cute.' She couldn't stop the smile creeping out of the side of her mouth.

'Thank you for noticing.' The smirk was back.

Sara felt her knees weaken. Thank the angels she was sitting down. This was going to be a difficult time for keeping control of herself. She knew what was coming next. And she was beside herself in anticipation.

'Don't worry. It's covered.'

'I'm not worried. I'm with you.' He turned to her. She was going to have to make a supreme effort in her self restraint. Already, she could feel herself straining the binds of it.

'I think I'll let the valet park up for us,' Sara casually remarked. Her head was telling her that parking and walking would take too long. Her excitement was controlling her actions now.

She pulled up outside the Bellagio entrance. She engaged the brake and released the car boot catch. She smoothly lifted the sports bag out and closed the latch. Grissom had assured her that the cockroaches would be fine for a while. She conveniently forgot to tell the valet that he had live stock in the vehicle. But she gave him a larger tip out of sympathy. In the practiced move, her fingers entwined with Grissom's and they headed towards the check in desk.

'Now I have to admit,' conceded Grissom, 'I have absolutely no ideas why we are here. It's not a crime scene is it?' A look of alarm crept over his distinguished features. He loved his job, but now really was not the time for swabbing and spatter. 'Why are we going to the check in desk?

'Call yourself and investigator? It's because we are checking in.'

Sara was distracted by the hotel general manager. She daren't look at Grissom. If she saw the look in his eyes right now, she would have been completely undone; with the remnants of her self restraint lying torn and tattered on the floor around her feet. Phew, it was getting warm in there.

'Miss Sidle. Welcome to the Bellagio. Everything is arranged as you requested. Here are your key cards – room 17846. Do you require any further assistance?'

'No, thank you. Have you arranged the other little…' she trailed off.

'Yes. Ready when you are.'

'Thank you Mr Andrews. You have been more than helpful.'

Sara nodded her appreciation and turned in to Grissom. His eye brows were practically in his hairline. If he forced his eyes any wider, he would lose them down the hallway.

'I'm sorry, Gil, but this is where we go our separate ways.'

Grissom looked horrified. 'But I thought ….' He spluttered.

She leaned up towards his ear and whispered,

'It's only for a short time, but it will be worth it. I promise.' She withdrew and looked at him. 'Just follow the evidence.'

And with that, she turned and was gone. He looked at the key card she'd pressed into his hand as she whispered to him. Room 17846. I get it, he thought, a chaste smile ghosting across his lips. My date of birth. Birthday fantasies. He looked up to the lifts. He pursed his lips and dropped his head a little to the side and purposefully walked towards the open doors ahead…

On the 17th floor, he alighted the lift and looked at the direction signs. He shuffled left along the corridor, absent mindedly flexing his left wrist as he moved. He was totally mesmerised at how much work Sara had put into today. Surely, he must have seen her planning or booking? He honestly could not recall anything. He made a mental memo to himself never to upset or annoy her. She could hide his body and it would never be found. Ever.

Ah. 17846. He slid the card into the swipe reader and the green light gave him access. He entered and had to double take. The light was on and someone's things were already in there. He checked the card, the number on the door and the full clothes hanger dangling over the wardrobe door. This was definitely it. He was officially confused. He let the door slip from his fingers and it firmly closed behind him. His investigative skills kicked in. Overview the scene first. He edged along the wall which separated himself from the bathroom. Clothes hanger, shower gel, towels on the bed and an envelope on the desk, with "Griss" carefully scrawled on it. No mistake, Sara's hand was in this, and written all over it. He gave in. He opened the envelope.

'_Hey, Gil. Well done. You successfully solved the case. You have one hour to prepare yourself for this. I will meet you by the fountains. Look out for a lady carrying a white rose. Your clothes are in the hanger, I've included a diagram, and your shoes are in the bottom of the wardrobe. Your favourite shower gel is on the bed. _

_See you in one hour._

_Shivering in anticipation,_

_Sara.'_

Grissom was delighted. But why did he need a diagram?

Sara couldn't get over how smooth this was. She couldn't tell him how she'd done it. She'd visited the hotel, She'd talked to a check in clerk. She'd talked to the manager. She'd talked to the manager who would be on duty. She'd delivered his clothes hanger the day before. She'd been late to the lab. She'd been told off. She had the decomp scene as punishment. She could still smell it. She hated lemons. It would always be her little secret.

…………………………..

5.

The Strip at night was spectacular, whether you were an open mouthed tourist or completely cynical local. Lights emitted from every square inch of Las Vegas Boulevard. From where she was standing, Sara could see the outrageous beam of light screaming out of the Luxor pyramid. She had often wondered what it would be like to fly down the Strip in a helicopter, over the Strat Tower towards Mandalay Bay and back. She'd lived there for six years and had never done anything tourist -like there. Maybe she needed to lighten up and do something a bit off beam. But being stuck in the lab most nights did limit her opportunities somewhat.

In the hour since she'd left an open mouthed Grissom in the lobby of the Bellagio, she'd used a guest room at the hotel to prepare herself for the nightshift… a beautifully different one to that which she was used to. Mr Andrews had arranged for her to use the courtesy room there to shower and change herself. A little make-up and a cloud of Gucci later and she was ready, giving herself a few minutes to put her casual clothes in her sports bag and deposit them in the car. Her stomach was nervous beyond the butterflies stage. She was five minutes early for Grissom. She looked up at the splendour of the hotel. Lit from the front and top, with the hotel name standing out in silhouette from the turret towering above the lake. This was the perfect place for a fantasy first date.

Weeks previously, as they vegged out in his lounge following a miserable shift, Grissom had disclosed that he regretted not having an actual first date with Sara. Breakfasts led to spending time together, which led to romantic walks, which led to a first kiss which led to more than either could ever have anticipated following the clumsy, painful way they had conducted themselves since the moment she had arrived from San Francisco. This would hopefully put it right.

Sara looked at the white rose, circling between her fingers. Had she been ten years old, she would have pulled the petals off in the he-loves-me-he-loves-me-not ritual so many young girls played. But this was a mature, thirty-something Sara Sidle. She knew how he felt. She knew how she felt. It had taken its time to arrive, but love had finally found them.

'Thank you for the diagram,' a gentle, masculine voice whispered in her ear.

She smiled as her thoughts drifted back to then and now. She turned round, the black, inky, brooding depths of the lake no longer enough to captivate her anymore.

'Well, I know you struggle with them, and the internet can be wonderfully informative.'

She made immediate eye contact and moved in for a soft kiss. Her eyes took him in. She had to admit that his court suit made him devilishly handsome, but in a black tux, he was completely devasting. A weapon of mass destruction to all woman kind. She gulped. Her fingers trembled up to his bow tie and smoothed it out against the winged collar of his dress shirt. She lifted her white rose and placed it through the button hole, and stroked her hand down his lapel. This was the reason she had been beside herself. Who wouldn't be, spending a night with Gil Grissom in a tuxedo?

'Sara, I have no idea when, where, how you did all this, but thank you. You have made this the most entertaining, vibrant, exciting birthday any man could ever dream of. I nearly took off back to my place this morning to avoid any talk of celebrating, but I am so glad that I didn't.'

'Why?'

'Because I wouldn't have missed this for all the world, and I would never have seen you in that dress. Wow.'

Sara gave an embarrassed acknowledgement. Dresses weren't usually her and strappy high heels definitely weren't, but tuxedoes weren't usually him so fair was fair under the circumstances. It was their first date after all.

A few strained chords of 'The Marriage of Figaro' began to erupt from the loud speakers along the side of the lake. Grissom and Sara turned round to watch the fountain. It was his favourite opera. She couldn't have arranged that too could she, he mused? They watched, silently, hand in hand as the waters of the Bellagio burst upwards, in circular motions, energetic thrusts of watery light cascading downwards as gravity played its part.

They watched swirl after swirl of spray jettison in symbolic harmony as the music and display reached its cataclysmic finale. A round of applause concluded the proceedings.

'So, what's this all about? Why are we here?'

Sara turned back into him.

'Do you remember complaining that we never had a real, actual, official first date? That we, sort of, fell into this relationship?

'Yes, a few weeks ago. Why?'

'This is it. Your final fantasy. Our first date. I guessed you'd want to do it properly, a meal, wine, sparkling conversation – that kind of evening. Best of everything. I know you're a closet romantic.'

Grissom just stared and marvelled. Words, for once, eluded him.

'It's perfect. Would you do me the honour of dining with me this evening? I presume we have a reservation here?'

He extended his elbow out and Sara slipped her hand through the crux of it.

'The Olives. Outside table, over looking the lake. But there is just one thing, Gil, that I think you need to know.'

'Oh? What's that?'

'I don't go past first base on a first date.'

'Come on,' he chuckled, 'I'm hungry.'

Sara grinned at him. Both knew that tonight, neither would stop at first base. It was home runs all the way.

At the restaurant, they smiled across the table. They ordered. They sipped their wine. They talked, they laughed. They ate. They discussed a clean shaven, smooth faced Grissom – the professor who she'd felt an immediate connection with. They considered how both had let the relationship slip between their fingers for so many years. They decided this would be the last time they talked of it. Together into their future rather than alone through their pasts. They lost themselves in each others eyes. They stroked their thumbs over each others hands. Sara toasted his birthday. They clinked their champagne glasses together. They were comfortable with each other. They were happy.

'So, is this the precedent?' questioned a very contented Grissom, following a huge slice of tiramisu.

'How do you mean?' responded a confused Sara, whirling a glass of whiskey and ice around in her glass. She watched Grissom settle back in his chair, resting his hands over his cummerbund.

'Birthday fantasies and surprises and first dates?'

'Don't go there, Grissom. This is a one off for a special day. You'll have to wait until you're 60 for more dreams come true.' Sara warned him.

'I don't think so. I reckon it'll be less than sixty minutes before another happens.'

Grissom's eyes were dark. Sara was in trouble, blissful, lustful, gorgeous, beautiful trouble. And she couldn't wait. She paid the bill. The only thing better than seeing Grissom in a tux, was seeing and getting Grissom out of a tux.

She couldn't tell him how she'd done it. She'd booked the table two weeks previously. She'd arranged for a table at 10pm. She'd asked for a playlist for the fountains. She'd arranged for him to meet her at the fountains five minutes before they played 'The Marriage of Figaro,' his favourite opera. She'd maxed out on overtime. She'd worked doubles for a month. Somehow, she had to pay for it. It would be her little secret.

…………………………………..

6.

Morning came early in room 17846 at The Bellagio Hotel and Casino, Las Vegas, Nevada. The Weapon of Mass Destruction had hit its target, and its tuxedo casing was laying stroon around the room. It could be dry cleaned and pressed before it was required again. That was the last thought Sara had as she coaxed it from his body the previous evening. After that, she was incapable of any process of thought, logical or otherwise.

The chink of light through the curtains started to disturb Sara Sidle. Waking up was not one of her strengths. Once she was awake, she could stay conscious for extraordinary long periods of time, but waking up? That was a no no. Especially after an energetic night before.

As she stirred, she looped her arm over to lie across her man. Her shoulder jarred as her wrist hit the mattress. She couldn't do the maths. How did that happen? Curiosity overcame her and she prized one eye open to see what was happening. He wasn't there. Her senses kicked in. She lay silently for a few moments, taking in her unfamiliar surroundings. She could hear water. Too far away for it to be the fountains outside. She recognised a familiar vocal tone coming from the bathroom. He was humming Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture, adding the loud booms booms of the cannons with gusto. As Napoleon's armies were defeated by Russian forces in the final movement, Sara gave herself a little grin. There was only one Gil Grissom. A genuinely unique man.

Her mind went back to a conversation they'd had the night before. The Gil Grissom she'd first met all those years ago. How she wanted to wake up in a hotel room with him then. Youthful, fuzz free face and with a cheeky little dimple in his chin. Slightly longer hair she recalled. Darker and longer. She had rejoiced his hair was about the same length now, but a flattering silver. She hadn't lied when she'd told Hodges that grey hair could be very attractive. Grissom nearly fell through the floor, she remembered. Its longer length made his hair a little curlier and so much sweeter first thing in a morning, as it was often flattened on the pillow side and stuck out on the other, where her hands had been running through it during saucy encounters. She felt an immediate attraction to the beardless, curly Grissom from a lifetime ago.

She was brought back to reality by the sound of the bathroom door opening. She faked sleep again. With any luck, her Prince Charming would kiss and stroke her awake. That was one hell of a way to come round from slumber. She waited as she listened to his feet pad along the carpet. She waited as she felt his weight change the position of the mattress. She waited as she heard the springs creek as he leaned forward. She luxuriated in the feather light touch of his lips on her shoulder. She shuddered as she felt his fingers trail down her back, scarcely the fingertips touching. She smiled into her pillow as she uncurled herself and started to turn around to him.

She stared at him slack jawed.

'Oh my God, Gil, what happened?'

Grissom looked aghast.

'How do you mean?

'Where is it?'

'Oh, I get you,' Grissom acknowledged. 'I was looking at it yesterday in your apartment. It was getting old. It made me look tired. It had to go.'

Sara tentatively stretched out her hand to touch his face. The familiar bristles of his carefully shaped facial hair were gone. They were replaced by a moisturised, soft skinned chin. She traced her thumb over it, the cleft getting extra special attention.

'Mmm. I think I like it. But I'll miss the tickle of the beard,' she offered, with a glint in her eye.

'You got me thinking about it last night. Helped me make my mind up. The man you fell in love with, remember?'

'Oh, I remember,' she sighed. 'I remember him.'

She stretched up to plant a hesitant kiss on his shorn lips. The kiss had a faint tinge of shaving gel. Not something she associated with Grissom.

'I need to be him again. He was more fun. I liked being him, before all the supervisor rubbish got in the way and took me away from the job and the people I love,' admitted Grissom, a melancholy thought in his eyes.

'You do know what this means, though don't you?'

'What?' he puzzled.

'We're going to need another first date.' She smiled at him. 'Come here, I need to thoroughly inspect this new look of yours.'

She initiated a long, slow, excruciatingly erotic kiss, which required her lips travelling the length and breadth of this new terrain. She teased and taunted his jaw line, neck, lips and chin. She pulled herself away, finally. Grissom looked serenely at her.

'Is it a hit?'

'Well, it passes my test,' she purred, 'but Catherine will be a whole different story. You'd better get your tale straight before shift tonight.'

Gil was thunderstruck.

'Oh no! I never considered that! Can I grow it again before shift starts!' Grissom stared in the mirror, rubbing his hands over his face.

He'd seen the look in her eyes when they'd talked about their earliest meetings. He'd been attracted then. He loved her now. He'd read her college diaries when she went out for take out as they cleaned out her cupboards to make room for some of his stuff when he slept over. He knew she fancied him as he was then. He knew she waned to kiss him then. He knew she wanted to sleep with him then. He knew her fantasy. He knew she loved the man she left San Fran for. He wanted to be him. It would always be his little secret.


End file.
